Harry Potter and the City of Shadows
by LynstHolin
Summary: Harry/Abraxas  Auror Potter is asked by the Ministry to test out a new kind of Time-Turner. He is sent to 1952 to assist Abraxas Malfoy in recovering a magical artifact from a mysterious city in the Amazon rain forest.
1. Chapter 1

Chapters will alternate between Harry's and Abraxas' point of view. There will be some suggestiveness, but no explicit sex.

This is the same version of Abraxas that's in 'The Seekers,' 'The White Cliffs of Dover," and 'Be My Love Monkey.' He is from the head-canon of ffnetter Thorsmaven; Thorsmaven has both fiction and artwork with this version of Abraxas at . com

...

Harry often felt a bit odd wearing his Auror uniform, as if he was really just a child playing dress-up. His fellow Aurors regarded him with some amusement; he had slain the Dark Lord, but he had trouble getting to work on time, keeping his Ministry-issue boots properly shined, and organizing the in-out baskets on his desk. He had imagined that an Auror's job was non-stop action, but in reality it was mostly paperwork, to Harry's despair.

He sat at his desk filling out a form in triplicate, with two quills that were 'slaved' to the one in his hand writing the second and third copies. His fingers cramped as he concentrated hard on writing neatly; he had received several tongue-lashings about his terrible penmanship. 'Auror Potter spoke to the complainant. It was determined that the complainant's claim that her neighbor was hexing her begonias was unfounded'. Harry looked around, hoping that the coffee trolley was coming around soon. He didn't want to fall asleep while doing paperwork again. The last time that had happened, he had woken up with backwards letters all over his face.

"Potter, my office, now," Shacklebolt said.

Harry jumped, and all three quills skidded across his desk. Harry tried to gauge whether he was in trouble again or not, but Shacklebolt had the ultimate poker face. "Yes, sir." He scurried down the corridor after the Minister.

Shacklebolt's office was a strictly utilitarian space, with a photo of his wife and children the only personal touch. A woman that Harry recognized from the Department of Mysteries was waiting, sitting in one of the chairs in front of the large mahogany desk. The desk top was bare except for a round, golden object with a chain attached. "Is that a Time-Turner?" Harry asked. "I thought they had all been destroyed."

Shacklebolt indicated a chair beside the woman. "Sit, Potter." The Minister sat at his desk and picked up the Time Turner, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. Harry noticed that it was more elaborate than the one he and Hermione had used to save Buckbeak. There were multiple rings surrounding the hour glass, and the hour glass itself had some sort of gear attached to it. Harry tried to see what the gear teeth meshed with, but his eyes started to get blurry.

"It's best not to stare at it too long," the woman said. "It can give you a nasty migraine."

"That's a prototype," Shacklebolt said. "We've successfully used it for short trips back to the near past, but we believe that it gives us the capability to go much further back than the older style, and we need someone to test it out. And you looked terribly bored at your desk."

"Kinsgsley, he's just a boy," the woman objected.

"Madeleine, he's just the boy that eliminated the Dark Lord."

"Is it dangerous?" Harry asked.

Shacklebolt set the Time Turner down and gave Harry a serious look. "We don't know. That's why I've decided to ask you. You're quite brave. But you are allowed to turn this mission down. If you do, we will Obliviate you. Actually, once you're done with the mission, if you take it, we will Obliviate you. The existence of this type of Time Turner needs to remain top secret."

"Where would I be going?"

"1952, the Amazon basin. We are also testing a theory. It has always been impossible to use Time-Turners to change important events that have already happened. Even small things can be unalterable. Nothing can be changed because anything a traveler does merely produces the circumstances that existed before they traveled. But we think we might possibly have found a... a way to cheat. Madeleine, did you want to continue?"

The woman stood up and walked to a blackboard that took up one wall. A tap of her wand transformed it into something akin to a computer screen. A twisting line of green light undulated from one end to another. "This is the path of time itself," Madeleine said, indicating the line with one finger. "Now, do you see this line here that branches off? You follow it back, and it rejoins the main line. That is a link between the years 1882 and 1135." Madeline walked to the left end of the screen, to where the line ended abruptly. "This is the present. This line right _here_ branches off, and goes to 1952."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked. Looking at that glowing line was making his head spin little.

"We don't know," Shacklebolt answered. "We would like you to test out one of our theories. We want you to try to change the past."

"Will it be dangerous?"

The Minister smiled. "Anacondas, piranhas, jaguars, Abraxas Malfoy. It won't be a walk in the park."

"I have to... go up against Abraxas Malfoy?" Harry didn't know much about the man, other than that he was Draco Malfoy's deceased grandfather, but that name made him sound rather intimidating.

"No, you will be assisting him. He recovered magical artifacts for the Ministry. In 1952, he was in the Amazon basin searching for a golden statue with the power to grant wishes. He came back empty-handed and Obliviated. The statue somehow ended up in the hands of one Tom Riddle. We want you to bring that statue back with you." Shacklebolt gave Harry a long, hard look. "Do you want this mission?"

Harry could feel a grin spreading across his face. No paperwork. No in-out baskets. No shoe-shining. No uniform with its confining jacket. No immediate superiors chewing him out. "Yes, sir."

...

A port-key took Harry to São Paulo, and a small airplane took him into the rain forest. The pilot seemed dubious about leaving Harry alone in the middle of the jungle. Harry watched the plane recede into the sky, then took the Time-Turner out of his shirt. A turn of the gear, so many spins on the outer ring, and then working inward... The world blurred around Harry.

The clearing that he had been standing in was now overgrown with towering, vine-draped trees. A tiny ginger monkey shrieked in fright and leapt from branch to branch to flee the intruder that had suddenly appeared in its world. Harry pulled out a map and a compass. He was going to have to find his way Muggle-style. He shouldered his backpack, drew his machete, and began hacking his way toward the river.

It wasn't long before Harry learned that 'rain forest' was a very apropos term for the place. Even when it wasn't raining, it was wet. Water dripped constantly from trees. Harry's pith helmet was supposed to protect him from the sun, but it was of more use for keeping his hair dry. The smell of wet earth and rotting vegetation filled his nostrils constantly, and the air was thick with moisture. Harry had thought the Ministry-issued jungle uniform of khaki shorts and matching button-up short-sleeved shirt was silly-looking, but it was much better suited for the climate than the jeans and tee shirts that he would have chosen himself.

By the time he reached the river, the sun was starting to set. Harry gave himself some time to marvel over the sheer vastness of the Amazon, even though it was just the beginning of the rainy season and the river had yet to swell into flood stage. What he had imagined didn't come close to the reality. Gazing into its immensity made him feel... pleasantly insignificant. He spent the night with the sound of rushing water in his ears, in a water-proof tent that was warded against beasties and creepy-crawlies.

Harry was awakened at dawn by howling monkeys and squawking birds. He followed the river, but, mindful of caimans and anacondas, he didn't stray too close to the water's edge. Somewhere not too far away was a vast, mysterious city, made of stone brought from thousands of miles away. It was wizard-made, undiscovered by Muggles, and ancient. It had been abandoned long ago, but people with features similar to those depicted in bas-relief sculptures in the city still dwelled in the forest. Abraxas Malfoy was searching this city for the gold statue that some travelers had claimed to have encountered.

Harry paused and pulled the photo he had been given of Abraxas out of his pack. He had expected another pretty-faced Malfoy like Draco and Lucius (not that Harry had ever noticed how good-looking they were... nope, not all all. Never.). But Abraxas had harsh, hawk-like features that were not improved at all by the sour look on his face. The pale eyes behind the half-moon spectacles seemed to be judging Harry-and finding him lacking. Harry was suspicious of the man. Did the Ministry use Veritaserum on him to make sure he was really robbed and Obliviated? He was a _Malfoy_. It seemed likely that he was working for Riddle all along.

After stopping for a meal (some unpleasant sort of hard bread that the Ministry provided), Harry continued on his way. Hacking through a particularly thick stand of vegetation, his machete clanged against something hard. He cleared away the greenery and uncovered a stone statue of a woman draped in a jaguar skin, its head still whole and sitting atop hers. The city was close.

"Ch-charlus?"

Harry whirled. The hawk face, the half-moon glasses, the mane of pale blond hair, most of which was held back in a queue-Abraxas Malfoy. The man had a very startled expression on his face. "What did you say?" Harry asked.

"Oh. Oh, nothing. Nothing." Abraxas put a hand to his mouth, then lowered it again.

"You're short," Harry blurted out. Oops. Not very diplomatic. But the man _was _short, at least a head shorter than his son. Also, instead of having the slim, graceful build that Draco and Lucius both had (not that Harry noticed), the man was stocky and muscular. He was in the same Ministry-issued tropical wear as Harry, complete with pith helmet, and his biceps strained at his sleeves. The calves that showed between his shorts hem and the top of his boots bulged. His face was actually scarier than in the photograph. Harry backed away from the cold gray eyes. "Um. Sorry."

Abraxas crossed his arms on his barrel-like chest. "Did the Ministry send you?"

"Yes, sir."

The steely eyes narrowed. "Since when do I need a nanny?" The upper-crust accent and arrogant drawl were quite familiar, as was the deep, purring tone.

"I, uh, I'm just following orders, sir."

Abraxas looked Harry up and down. "How old are you? Ten?"

"I'm eighteen."

"Perhaps I'm the nanny."

Yep. Definitely a Malfoy.

"Come along, boy. There are unfriendly residents in this neighborhood. They won't follow us into the city itself."

The man could move fast on those short legs. Harry had to trot to keep up. "My name is Ha-Harold Parker. Call me Harry." It was the name that Shacklebolt had come up with. "Do you want to see my badge?"

"Not especially. Do try to keep up."

The trees were so thick, Harry didn't see the entrance to the city until they were actually in it. Abraxas took the crumbling steps two at a time, his sheathed machete bouncing against his thigh as he nimbly side-stepped roots and debris. Every few steps, pillars bracketed the staircase, depicting part-human, part-animal figures. At the top was a collapsed gate that gave onto an avenue flanked by the ruins of small buildings. Abraxas paused beside one that still had part of a roof. "The sun is going down. It would be best for us to settle in here. Things walk this city at night."

Abraxas' supplies were already in the ruin. Harry watched the older man place wards all around the small space. "I've got some left-over roast monkey," Abraxas said. "Did you want some?"

Harry made a face. "Eat monkey?"

Abraxas raised an eye-brow. "We're in the jungle, Parker. It's eat or be eaten."

"No, thanks." Harry gnawed on more Ministry-issue hard-tack while Malfoy ate his monkey-meat. When it got completely dark, the two men unrolled their sleeping bags; Abraxas didn't undress until he was inside his, which amused Harry. "Are we going to look for that statue that grants wishes tomorrow?" he asked, but Abraxas was already snoring.


	2. Chapter 2

This one is short because the chapters alternate between Harry's and Abraxas' p.o.v.'s-next chapter will be Harry's p.o.v.

...

The most romantic song in the world was playing:

_And now the purple dusk of twilight time_

_Steals across the meadows of my heart_

_High up in the sky the little stars climb_

_Always reminding me that we're apart_

Charlus placed his hand on Abraxas' waist. "Why do you always get to lead?" Abraxas complained.

"Because I'm taller. That makes me the man in this relationship," Charlus replied, grinning cockily.

"You think so, do you?" Looking up into those warm brown eyes, Abraxas went in for a kiss just as Charlus bent his head down, leading to a collision of spectacles. Charlus laughed; Abraxas just raised one eyebrow. He laid his head on Charlus' chest, enjoying the warmth of his lover's body. "We should get married." Charlus' reply was an inaudible whisper. "What did you say?" The room filled with sibilants and hisses. "What's going on, Charlus?"

The growling woke Abraxas. He rolled over, trying to get comfortable so he could drop back off to sleep. A voice tentatively called his name. Ah. The reason for the dream. The Ministry's pup. "What is it, Parker?"

"Are those ghosts?"

"Think, boy! Would I need to set wards against ghosts?"

"Oh, right. Um, are we safe?"

"Are you questioning my abilities?"

"No, sir. So, uh, what are they, then?"

"Go to sleep," Abraxas ordered.

"How am I sup-"

"_Go to sleep_."

"Yes, sir." The boy sighed and rustled around in his sleeping bag.

Abraxas reached into his knapsack and took out a silver flask engraved with the Malfoy family crest, flipped the top open, and took a good, long pull of firewhiskey, hoping it would help him get back to sleep. The boy's resemblance to Charlus was unsettling. Abraxas had deliberately been taking missions that took him away from home for extended periods of time, throwing himself into dangerous situations and arduous journeys, trying to forget. When that wasn't enough, there was the whiskey. But even the whiskey wasn't going to be very helpful if he had to look at that lanky frame, that floppy black hair, that goofy grin...

_The serious expression that Charlus had on his face looked... foreign. He was always smiling, laughing, joking, teasing. Abraxas had a feeling that he wasn't going to like what was going to be said next. "I've made up my mind, and that's that," Charlus stated firmly. "It's not fair to your wife-to-be for you to enter into marriage with her if you don't really mean to be her husband. I will always be your friend, Abraxas, and I will always love you, but I won't be your lover any more." He voice quivered a little on the last words._

_Abraxas looked around the pub, making sure no one could overhear their conversation. "It's an arranged marriage. Her family selected me for my wealth and position, and I selected her for her beauty and healthy family background. Elenore understands these things. She expects me to support her in a certain style, and I expect her to produce an heir."_

_"But even in arranged marriages, people fall in love. It happened with my parents."_

_"I'm not going to fall in love with her. I'm not particularly attracted to women." Not liking the way this conversation was going in the least, Abraxas tossed down another shot of whiskey._

_"How do you know if you won't even try? And what if she falls in love with you?" Charlus had his glasses off. His eyes always looked so shockingly young and vulnerable without them. _

_Abraxas snorted and slammed his shot glass down on the table. "I highly doubt that will happen."_

But it did. The potion that Abraxas used to enable him to perform his conjugal duties worked a little _too_ well, and Elenore soon became besotted with him. It was a position that most men would have been happy to be in; Elenore had a face that was so lovely, Abraxas had seen men fall into potholes and walk into street signs while gawking at her. She was tall, much taller than her husband, and was usually a slim as a willow, though sometimes she made herself curvier. Marrying a Metamorphmagus led to many ribald jokes from other men, who chortled lustfully at the thought of a woman who could change her entire appearance at will.

But Abraxas was incapable of returning her feelings. She was a woman, and, most importantly, not Charlus. At times, Abraxas idly wondered what she would do if he asked her to make herself look like Charlus, but he would never actually do it.

The expression of naked hopefulness that Elenore had on her face whenever she looked at him made Abraxas want to drink himself into unconsciousness. The plaintive sound of her voice calling his name. The way she had gone down onto her knees to beg him to not leave her home alone again the day he had left on this expedition. Abraxas didn't know what to do with that sort of _need_.

He took another gulp from the flask, feeling the heat radiating from his stomach to his limbs. _Damn the Ministry for saddling me with this child. Damn Elenore for forgetting that our marriage is a contract, not a romance. And damn Charlus and his over-developed sense of honor. _

Abraxas was going to have to send a bird to the Ministry and request that they send more firewhiskey.

...

The song is 'Stardust,' by Hoagie Carmichael


	3. Chapter 3

It had taken forever for Harry to fall back asleep. The noises in the night had been unearthly, raising the hair on the back of his neck. Deep, guttural, liquid growls. Creaking, drawn-out whines. Whispers than nearly sounded like words; when Harry tried to make sense of them, his head began to ache. No wonder Abraxas drank so much.

Harry opened his bleary eyes when dawn's light crept through the fissures in the walls and the roof. He put his glasses on. Abraxas was already out of his sleeping bag, clad in long trousers and a shirt that was partly unbuttoned over an under-shirt. He was unbraiding, combing, and rebraiding his blond mane. He hadn't put his own spectacles on yet, and Harry was momentarily struck by how much softer the hawk-like face looked with the gray eyes unfocused. Then the spectacles were put on, resting oddly in the middle of Abraxas' nose, and his pale face snapped back into its harsh lines. Those eyes regarded Harry with annoyance. "I see you survived the night." He sounded almost disappointed.

"What made those noises?"

"I know that infants must constantly ask questions, but could you wait until I have my breakfast, at least?" Abraxas began gnawing on the last of the roast monkey. He turned his face away when Harry crawled out of his sleeping bag in nothing but his boxers and started getting dressed.

"Why do you act like a crabby granddad when you're only ten years older than me?" Harry asked as he shook out his boots before pulling them on. The look Abraxas shot him would have frozen the very marrow of most people. Harry watched as the older man strapped a knife sheath to one thigh and hung a machete from the back of his belt. His eyes widened when Abraxas pulled a bullwhip out of his pack, coiling it up and hanging it from a special snap-fastening on his belt. "A wizard with a whip? Really?" Indiana Malfoy. Harry was sure his amusement showed on his face.

"It's magically-enhanced." Abraxas put his hat on. "Come along." Harry followed while chewing on hard-tack that tasted like sawdust.

The ruin they had spent the night in was a small, humble building. As they walked down a street so skillfully fitted with paving stones that there were barely any cracks for weeds to sprout in, the buildings grew bigger. Second and third stories had collapsed inward, but some of the former grandness could still be seen: pillared porticos, curving staircases, intricate carvings depicting animals and everyday life.

"The noises you heard last night were made by the Shadows," Abraxas said as he walked along briskly.

"Shadows of what?"

"We don't know. Only their shadows exist in this world. Look." Abraxas stopped and pointed to a wall with a complicated frieze carved into it at eye-level. "This is a part of the palace. Start here." Harry looked where the older man's hand indicated. A group of men and women, with shaved heads that displayed the distinctive shape of their skulls: long, with sloped foreheads and high-arching noses. They all held wands. "Wizard historians don't know if wandlore is so ancient that that it came with the ancestors of these people nearly twenty-thousand years ago, or if it was discovered on this continent independently."

Harry followed the wall, moving left to right to 'read' the story the frieze told. The wizards and witches performed a ritual that involved a fire of human bones. Strange, sinuous shapes surrounded the fire, starting small, then growing bigger and bigger. The wizards and witches became frightened and fled. Some were touched by otherworldly tentacles; they fell to the ground with demented looks on their faces. At the very end was a representation of the front gates of the city, and above it floated a skull clutched by the tentacles. "It's a warning," Harry said.

"Hmm. You're smarter than you look."

"Um, thank you?"

"This ritual with the bones let the Shadows into our world, into this city, and so it was abandoned. If whatever makes the Shadows made it through... well, it would not be our world any more, most likely."

"The Shadows make all that noise?"

"Yes. They hide from the sun, but come out at night, especially during the dark of the moon. Somehow, they've been contained in this city."

"What happens if one of them... gets you?"

"No one can say for sure, because all those who have been touched by the Shadows are left far too mad to talk. There are at least three men in St. Mungo's right now who cry like babies if the lights are turned off." Abraxas pulled a dark orb from his pocket and held it so it caught the rays of the morning sun. Slowly, the orb lightened. Noticing Harry's interest, Abraxas said, "It was my mother's. It's quite ancient, actually. It was used in the Greater Demon War of 1099."

"On what side?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking.

"The right one," Abraxas replied enigmatically. The orb glowed so brightly that it hurt Harry's eyes. Abraxas murmured to it, and it dimmed. "It's ready. Let's go." He set off again, moving at a pace Harry could barely keep up with. "So, you're here to help me find that ridiculous statue, eh? The Ministry really does not want Riddle to get his hands on any more magical artifacts. I suppose one wish-granting knick-knack doesn't mean all that much in the great scheme of things, but if he gets enough of them, he gains an advantage." They followed along the palace wall, which was punctuated at regular intervals by window openings.

"I'd have thought you'd be on _his_ side," Harry blurted out.

Abraxas wheeled around to glare at the younger man. "Why in Merlin's name would you think that? The antipathy between he and I is quite well-known."

"But your family..." Harry's voice trailed off as he realized that he was messing things up badly.

Abraxas' eyes grew baleful. "What have you got to say about my family?" he asked in a dangerously calm tone of voice.

Harry wondered if he was merely imagining that Abraxas' hand was creeping toward the whip on his belt. "N-nothing. I was... mistaken about something, I think."

"Hmph." Abraxas turned on his heel and continued on. Harry let his breath out in relief. After slaying the Dark Lord, one would think that no mere mortal could frighten Harry, but Abraxas Malfoy was rather terrifying. Harry trotted after the older man, following him up a broad, shallow set of steps to where a doorway big enough to admit a whale gaped. The doors that had once hung in it were long gone. Abraxas held the glowing orb before him and let go; it hovered. With one hand, he unsnapped his whip, holding it still coiled. "Stay close to me if you value your sanity," he said, just before he stepped into the abandoned palace.

Once in the entry hall, Harry saw tendrils of darkness withdrawing from the light the floating orb cast. He stayed so close behind Abraxas, he ran right into him when the man paused for a moment. "Not quite that close," Abraxas said tartly. The entry hall led to what must have been the throne room; a stone platform sat at the far end, under a set of skylights.

"Where is the statue, anyway?"

Abraxas shrugged. "It's hard to say. The thing gets found, incompetent fools leave it someplace unguarded, and it moves. Or the Shadows move it. No one knows exactly what happens." He turned down a narrow hallway that sloped downward, whispering to his orb so it decreased the amount of light that it emitted. "We're headed for passageways that have yet to be explored and mapped." Abraxas reached back with his free hand and pulled a folded paper out of one rear pocket, shook it open, then plastered it to the wall with a simple sticking charm without using his wand. "We're here. We turned left at the tee there, and we are literally in uncharted territory." He shoved the hand-drawn map and a stub of pencil at Harry. "Make yourself useful and be the map-maker."

The map so far was was lightly drawn with economy and neatness, with features labeled in perfect cursive. Too busy reading about dead ends and hidden staircases, Harry didn't realize that Abraxas was walking away from him until he was startled by a gurgling hiss. Something brushed lightly against his shin, leaving a line of burning cold even through his sock.

_Crack_. The whip snaked out, sparks flying from its tip; it missed Harry by a fraction of an inch. The tendril of murky, disquieting black turned to mist. "Do keep up, Parker. Your lucky it didn't touch your bare skin." Abraxas deftly coiled the whip back up in one hand. "And watch out for booby-traps. This city is rotten with them."

The passageway they walked through was carpeted with dust and curtained with cobwebs. A spider the size of a corgi backed away from the light, its eight eyes glowing red. "Don't let one of those bite you," Abraxas cautioned.

"I wasn't really planning on it." It was a good thing Ron wasn't with; he would be in hysterics. The spider let out a nasty chuckle as Harry passed it.

A strange white, glowing lichen appeared on the walls, and Abraxas was able to dim the light orb a little more. They came to a recessed stone door. The wall around it was carved to resemble the fanged, gaping mouth of a demon. "Mark it on the map," Abraxas ordered. He scowled at Harry's sorry attempts at drawing.

"So how do we op-" Harry laid a hand on the door, and the floor beneath him suddenly vanished. He was dropping into a dank-smelling pit. Something wrapped around his ankle, arresting his fall with a jerk, and he was pulled up. The whip had saved him.

Abraxas was none too gentle as he pulled Harry all the way out of the pit; the top layer of skin was scraped off the back his legs as he was yanked over the lip. "Are you deaf or just brain-damaged? I warned you about the booby-traps! Do something that boneheaded again, and I'll find a new use for this whip."

"Sorry."

Abraxas frowned as he stared at the gap in the floor that now kept them from the door. "There must be something of value in here." He pulled his wand from a hidden pocket in his trousers and tried out several opening charms, most of which Harry knew from Auror training. After the fifth charm, the door shuddered and began to lift in a shower of dust and grit. Abraxas astonished Harry by taking a running leap into the demon's mouth. As the orb followed its owner, Harry had no choice but to follow.

The orb brightened, illuminating a vast chamber. Shadows seethed and muttered thickly, flinching away from the light. Some sank down into the floor. Abraxas walked to the middle of the chamber to investigate, with Harry close behind. They passed a rectangular, altar-like block of stone covered with charred bones and found themselves standing on the lip of a circular pit with a diameter of at least a hundred feet. Abraxas sent a ball of light down it with his wand. Shadows moved away from the ball, and it floated down, down, down. As it receded from them, it turned from white to red. "That's strange," Abraxas muttered. The ball of light never actually went out; it just grew too tiny for them to see.

"Where does it lead to?" Harry asked. The pit made him feel tiny and insignificant. The air that rose from it had a strange, metallic smell to it.

"A place you don't want to go, I'm sure. This is where they summoned the Shadows." Abraxas gazed thoughtfully into the abyss.

"Should we explore the rest of the chamber?" Harry asked, but the older man wasn't listening to him.

"__." The whisper was soft, seductive and repellent at the same time. It came from the pit.


	4. Chapter 4

There wasn't much in the world that frightened Abraxas. In his line of work, he had been confronted with Nazis, dragons, and demons. He had slain scorpions the size of hay-wagons, and once had nearly been eaten by army ants under the control of a dark wizard. Man-eating tigers, kraken guarding underwater caves, half-man half-ape abominations- he had faced them all and had the scars to prove it. But this insinuating voice that whispered his name made goose bumps rise on his arms and the hair on the nape of his neck stand up. Because it _knew _him.

"Revenge," it said softly, sibilantly. Pictures rose in Abraxas' mind. His mother's ruined face, the days she was too weak to play her beloved cello, the way her lungs labored so hard sometimes trying to take in enough air. The day she had been holding him and a gout of blood had come out of her mouth, frightening them both so badly that he had never sat in her lap again.

Other pictures entered his mind, of men who wore gas masks that made them look like a horde of giant insects: the Germans that had gassed his parents in the Great War. It had been before Abraxas was born, of course; he had no actual memory of the event. But he could hear the screams and see the insect-men marching, looking too big to be mere humans in their trench-coats and boots. He was sure the image had been imprinted on his mind while he was in the womb.

The gas masks dissolved into mist, allowing Abraxas to see the Germans' faces for the first time. He could see each man so clearly; their faces would appear in his dreams from now on, he knew. "Release us, and we will help you," the voice whispered; "You can make them pay for what they did."

The Germans disappeared, replaced by one of Abraxas' last memories of his mother: Hester Malfoy on a balcony, her frail body somehow standing straight in the storm that grew around her and whipped her hair and clothing. She held the palm she had sliced open to the sky as she screamed a malediction, not knowing that her small son watched it all.

It was followed by Abraxas' very last memory of his mother, of Hester lying in her coffin in the chapel located at the edge of the Malfoy family cemetery. She looked smaller than life, as if the curse that had used up the last of her life had consumed body as well as soul. "She died for you, Abraxasssssssssssssss," the voice said. The metallic smell that came from the pit grew stronger. "The least you can do is avenge her. Release us from this city."

"No," Abraxas tried to say, but his throat seized up and nothing came out. He had fallen to his knees without realizing it. He used the nearest available handhold to pull himself back up, not noticing that he was bruising the flesh under the clothing that he clutched at. Once he regained his feet he opened his eyes. His hands were clawed into the Ministry's pup's shoulders, and a wand was jammed into his rib-cage.

The boy was bug-eyed. "How does it know your name?" he demanded.

Abraxas blinked hard. He relaxed his hands and removed them from Parker. His glasses were askew, but it didn't matter. His vision was perfect. He pushed them up so they were in their usual place on the middle of his nose and cleared his throat. "Please remove your wand."

"How does that thing know you?" Parker put his wand away, but he still looked at Abraxas suspiciously.

"It doesn't," Abraxas replied crisply. He took several deep breaths to steady himself. "Come. Let's explore the rest of this chamber and then get out of here."


	5. Chapter 5

In this universe, Harry can still speak Parseltongue.

...

Harry stared suspiciously Abraxas, but he seemed fully recovered from... whatever that was. The man had dropped to his knees, his eyes rolling up until only the whites were visible and his hands clutching convulsively at air. Harry would have thought Abraxas was having some sort of fit if it wasn't for that hair-raising, unnatural voice from the pit. The voice that somehow _knew _Abraxas. The Ministry might trust the man, but Harry most certainly did not. There had to be a reason why the voice knew Abraxas' name.

"We'll come back to the pit later," Abraxas said. "I'll lower you down into it a ways."

"_What_? No way! You want to know what's down there, _you _go." Harry knew instinctively that the pit was a far greater threat that Voldemort ever was. The stink that arose from it had an indescribable wrongness to it, and little tentacles of darkness kept creeping up over the brink.

"I'm stronger, and you're scrawnier. Do you want to explain to the Ministry how you lost me by dropping me into a bottomless pit?" Abraxas took off in a running jump to leave the chamber, and Harry had to scramble to follow as the light-orb moved with him.

"Revenge on who?"

Abraxas, who had been frowning as he considered the corridor ahead, replied, "What?"

"The voice spoke of helping you get revenge on someone."

Those steely-gray eyes focused on Harry for a few seconds. "It was speaking nonsense." He took off briskly down the corridor.

Harry didn't believe for one second that it was nonsense. Abraxas was a _Malfoy_. Harry vowed to find out what the man was up to. He had to be up to _something_.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" The shouted spell and flash of green light made Harry jump, but it was aimed at a spider the size of a Volkswagen that had just lurched into view from around a turn in the corridor. Abraxas nudged the corpse with one foot. "Ugly brute, isn't it?" It didn't look much like an acromantula; it was sleeker and shinier, and seemed to possess more legs than it ought to have.

Abraxas used the handle of his whip to open the mouth between the pincers, and Harry recoiled when he saw that it had human teeth. "Augh! _What is that_?"

"Hmm. And here I thought the men that told me about the teeth had just had too much firewhiskey."

"Did- was it a person?"

"Could be. Or maybe it's a human-arachnid hybrid."

Harry _did not _want to think about what that meant. Abraxas impressed Harry by Vanishing the spider; he had never been able to make anything nearly that big disappear. As they continued down the corridor, Harry asked, "What's going to be done with the statue when we find it?"

"The Ministry will destroy it."

"Really? That seems like a waste. Couldn't they just let deserving people make wishes?"

"Have you ever heard the tale of the monkey's paw?"

"No."

"A family is given a monkey's paw as a souvenir of India by a friend, who says that it will grant three wishes. The father wishes for money to finish buying the family's home. His son is killed in an accident at work, and the parents' compensation is the exact amount needed to pay off the mortgage. Stricken with grief, the mother begs her husband to wish for the son to come back. He does, but when he hears the awful, dragging sounds approaching their front door, he realizes that their son has not returned as he was before his death, but as a mangled, week-old corpse. He wishes his son away just before his wife throws open the door."

Harry waited for more, but Abraxas went silent. Harry had to admit it was the most he had heard the man speak so far. "So, what does it mean?"

Abraxas gave him a quick, impatient look. "I would think that it's obvious. Having one's wishes granted leads to unexpected outcomes, and not always happy ones." He snapped his mouth shut in a way that let Harry know he was through talking.

The rest of the expedition was uneventful. All they found were chambers empty except for spider webs and the occasional red-eyed, snickering rat. When they emerged back outside, Harry took a deep breath and blew it out through his nostrils, trying to get rid of the stink of the pit. The sound of trickling water made him realize how very thirsty he was. Opposite the palace door was a pool, so fresh that it had to be spring-fed. Harry dipped his hands in it. His wrists were seized in an iron grip from behind. "It's all right to bathe in, but do not drink it. Nothing that comes from the city is safe to consume. Come help me get food and water."

Harry could have done with a rest after what they had just gone through, but Abraxas put a yoke with two empty buckets hanging from it across his shoulders and loped toward the city gates, his braid bouncing against his back. _What does it take to tire that man out_? Harry wondered as he grabbed their canteens and ran after Abraxas. He was trying not to think about how it had felt when Abraxas' front was pressed against him back at the pool, and trying not to let his eyes linger on the older man's rather perky bottom. _It doesn't mean anything_, he told himself; _I'm eighteen years old. My hormones are out of control_.

Just outside the city, Abraxas had rigged a canvas and wood container to catch rain. He dipped his buckets into it, then headed back toward the gates, seeming to not strain at all under the weight of the water, though Harry could see the muscles working under his shirt. "Why don't you use magic to levitate the buckets?" Harry asked him.

"There are people that don't want us here, and some of them can detect the use of magic. Whatever keeps the shadows confined in the city seems to hide traces of magic use, too, but once we're past the gates, keep your wand in your holster." Back in their shelter, Abraxas set the buckets in a corner, then strapped on a quiver full of arrows fletched with the colorful feathers of jungle birds. He lifted up a tarp and pulled out something long and shiny. "Here. This is good for small game."

Harry's mouth sagged open as he stared at the object. "What is that?"

"A shotgun. Just pump it and-"

"I'm not a bloody cowboy!"

Abraxas raised an eyebrow. "You most certainly are not. I would find a cowboy to be much more useful." He wrapped Harry's hands around the stock of the gun. Harry raised it up as he frowned at it. "_Bloody hell_! What the devil do you think you're doing?" Abraxas smacked the nose of the gun down. "You don't ever point a gun at anything you don't intend to shoot, idiot!"

_But I'm definitely thinking of shooting you,_ Harry nearly said. "How would I know something like that? I've never touch a gun before in my life!"

"Common sense, Parker. Common sense. Something you seem to be sorely lacking. Now shut your mouth and let me put a little bit of knowledge into that empty head of yours."

...

Having been taught the rudiments of using a shotgun, Harry walked behind Abraxas with the muzzle pointed at the ground. The older man gestured. "It's better if we split up. You go that way."

There was a faint trail hacked through the forest, and Harry followed it. He heard a chittering noise and looked up, spotting a tiny monkey with deep gold fur watching him with bright eyes. Raising the muzzle of the shotgun, he narrowed his eyes and prepared to fire, then lowered the gun again. Perhaps he would run across something... less cute.

The trail meandered quite a bit, but the sound of the river helped Harry stay oriented. The ground got soggier as the rush of the Amazon grew louder. Emerging from the trees, Harry blinked as the broad river dazzled his eyes with reflected sunlight. He knew it wasn't a good idea to spend much time near the water's edge, as there were all sorts of nasty creatures in and around it, and it was used as a highway by the rain forest's human inhabitants, but he couldn't resist getting closer. It's breadth was still mind-boggling. A large fallen tree jutted out from the shore, and Harry clambered up on it and walked along the trunk. Twenty feet out, he jumped down onto a branch to get closer the the water. He'd heard that there were pink dolphins in this river, and he wondered if he could see one if he waited long enough.

The branch he squatted on dipped and bobbed a bit, but he seemed to be safely above water. No need to worry about piranhas or electric eels. He could see fish just below the water's surface and wondered if Abraxas had a net. Or could he shoot them?

The branch went out from under him, and water started closing over him... along with something else. Something thick and muscular and scaly. Something with a wedge-shaped head larger than his that looked down at him with jewel-like eyes, flicking its tongue. The anaconda was patterned in shades of green, and, if he wasn't facing imminent death, Harry might have marveled at its record-breaking size instead of trying not to wee himself.

"_I can speak your language_," he said in Parseltongue.

"_Interesting,_" the anaconda said as it started squeezing.

"_So, why not let me live? We can- talk,_" Harry gasped. It was a weak argument, but it was hard to think clearly when one was about to be eaten.

"_I'm not much of a conversationalist. And I think you'll be tasty, even though you have shadow-stink stink on you." _Harry's vision went black around the edges, his ribs creaked, and he thought he could hear his mother's voice. This was it. The end. _I'm coming, Mum_.

The snake shrieked and let out a string of curse words. It relaxed its grip and Harry sank into the river. With the pressure gone from his chest, he reflexively inhaled and his lungs filled with water. _Swim_, he told himself, but his limbs were too weak to move against the resistance of the water. He heard his father's voice, too, and the hoot of an owl. It barely registered when something wrapped around him and tugged.

He lay on the shore ejecting a gout of water from his lungs. His chest and throat and nasal passages burned as he coughed convulsively, barely noticing that he was being levitated. "We've got to get back to the city," Abraxas said, sounding none too pleased. "I had to use magic to save your sorry hide. We have no fresh meat, and your idiotic stunt leaves us without a shotgun."

Harry tried to reply, but could only manage a weak croak. He was aware of something wrapped around his body, binding his legs together and holding his arms to his sides. Something whistled past his ear. "_Son of a- _ Parker, we need to Apparate." Muscular arms held him tightly as he felt the familiar squeezing sensation. He was getting very tired of squeezing sensations.

He expected to be released from his bonds when he was lowered to the ground, but when he opened his eyes he saw Abraxas glowering down at him, holding the whip handle. The rest of the whip was what was binding Harry. "A Ministry employee who knows Parseltongue? I think not. You're one of Riddle's men, aren't you?" A tiny movement of Abraxas' wrist tightened the whip just a shade.

"No," Harry rasped.

"You might as well admit it. I have ways to make you tell the truth."

That sounded awfully ominous. Well, he _was _a Malfoy, and everyone knew they were geniuses at potions. Abraxas could probably whip up a truth serum out of boot-laces and dirt. And that would be _bad_. It had been stressed over and over again to Harry that Abraxas must not know that Harry was from the future. "I know the word!"

Abraxas cocked his head. "Hmm?"

"Avunculize!" After all he had been through, Harry had temporarily forgotten the word that was being used by Ministry employees of this era to identify each other. "Avunculize. See? I'm from the Ministry."

Abraxas looked at him for a long moment, his eyes flat. "Hmph. I suppose." A flick of his wrist and the whip released Harry. "But I'm keeping an eye on you, Parker. One false move, and I _will_ find out all your secrets."


	6. Chapter 6

Yep, Harry still speaks Parseltongue. BECAUSE I AM THE GOD OF THIS ALTERNATE UNIVERSE! [mad laughter] Plus, Amazon... snakes...

...

Back in their shelter, Parker sat in a corner, still coughing, while Abraxas sharpened his machete. _Stupid, useless pup_, Abraxas fumed to himself; _I was damn near spitted by an arrow and it's his fault_. But even as he thought it, he knew he was being a unfair. The rain forest's inhabitants were very attuned to their environment. The water trap, booted footprints, new trails hacked through the undergrowth- they would have noted the presence of interlopers sooner or later. The last time Abraxas had been to the city, it had taken less than a week for the native people to realize he was there. It was now day four of his current stay, so it may not have been the use of magic that alerted them.

But the boy irritated him immensely. From the moment Abraxas realized that Harry wasn't Charlus come to join him, the very sight of him was aggravating. The sound of his voice, too, as it was close to the timbre of Charlus' back in the day. He brought up feelings that Abraxas had worked hard to suppress.

And he was a Parselmouth? An heir of Slytherin, then. Not to be trusted. Abraxas wondered if his close resemblance to Charlus was something Riddle had cooked up somehow. Riddle was one of the few who had guessed at Abraxas' true relationship with Charlus, and it would be just the sort of thing he would do. But those green eyes? Perhaps Riddle made Parker resemble Charlus slightly imperfectly in hopes that Abraxas wouldn't suspect a trick? The trouble with trying to think as twistily as Riddle was that one never knew if one was just thinking like a madman. Abraxas considered Obliviating Parker and letting him wander into the jungle, but, if he really was sent from the Ministry, there would be awkward questions later. Tomorrow, Abraxas would send a message to the Ministry asking for more firewhiskey, and information on Harold Parker.

The boy looked harmless enough. At the moment, he was pacing back and forth, no doubt burning off the adrenaline his body had dumped into his bloodstream during his adventure with the anaconda. No matter how well one usually controlled one's fear, the threat of being eaten by a much larger creature evoked a deep, primal terror in the reptilian part of one's brain. Abraxas had to admit to himself that he was impressed that the boy didn't need to charm his pants clean, as the urge to void oneself in that sort of situation was instinctive.

That anaconda... If the natives left them alone long enough, perhaps Abraxas could learn something about it. It was certainly no ordinary snake. Its size was too great to be fully natural, and even in the brief glimpse he'd got of it, Abraxas had been able to tell that its eyes were faceted. If it wasn't a magical creature, Abraxas was a a ring-tailed lemur. No wonder so many men had disappeared while fishing

Parker had finally sat down. He was doing some sort of charm that turned a pair of his shorts into trousers, a clever bit of magic that Abraxas filed away mentally for future use. "My friend Hermione came up with that spell," Harry said when he noticed Abraxas watching him. "She's brilliant. I brought only shorts because I guessed it would be hot, but I figure trousers would be best when we're walking among the shadows."

Abraxas gave a grudging nod of approval. _See? He's not useless_. It was happening again. Abraxas was hearing Charlus in his head, being his usual calm, generous self. _He's an English boy dropped in the middle of the jungle. Would you have done much better at his age? So he's_ _an heir of Slytherin. That doesn't mean he's like Riddle. _He nearly said, "Shut it, Charlus," but realized that the boy would think he was crazy.

Picking up the remains of his roast monkey, Abraxas gave it a sniff. Meat went off so quickly in the jungle. "You can have some of my hardtack," the boy said, holding out a slab of something that did not resemble food in the slightest. After using his wand to make sure it wasn't poisoned or enchanted, Abraxas took a bite. _Ugh_. They were going to have to try hunting tomorrow. This bit of paste-board might be fine for a scrawny creature like Parker, but Abraxas needed _meat_ to maintain his muscles.

The boy was beginning to droop, and Abraxas was starting to feel tired, himself. He got up and started setting the wards, channeling his energy through his wand as he invoked the snake demon Apophis. The boy watched him silently. When Abraxas was finished, Parker said, "I've never seen anyone set wards like that before."

"The shadows have learned to burst right through the usual sort. They're quite smart, really. Do you have a Patronus?"

"Of course."

"Don't use it on them. They can learn things about you."

Parker's eyes narrowed. "Is that how they found out things about you? Your Patronus?" The boy was smarter than he looked. "You're not really here about the statue, are you?"

Of course it wasn't really about the statue, but the only two people who knew that were Abraxas and the Minister of Magic. Everyone else who had been to the city had their memories altered, if they were still sane. They remembered the city itself, but not the shadows. Tom Riddle was not the only dark wizard from whom the truth of the city had to be hidden; the defeat of Grindelwald has emboldened dozens more. The Ministry did not even consider Riddle to be the most dangerous among them. But Abraxas had a hunch that, although he was not the most powerful dark wizard at large at the present, he had far more potential than the others. If Riddle learned of the shadows and came to the city himself... Abraxas knew that would be bad. Apocalyptically bad. And so memories were altered, and according to Ministry records, it was all about a silly statue. The statue did exist, and the Ministry did want to destroy it. Partly because wish-granting items caused chaos, but also because Ministry records were being leaked somehow, and if Riddle learned that the statue had been destroyed, he would, it was hoped, have no interest in the city.

The boy was staring at Abraxas, waiting for a reply. "I'm just doing what the head of my department wishes." Abraxas didn't lie. He just omitted the fact that _he _was the head of the Department of Antiquities and Magical Artifact Recovery_. _Very few people in the Ministry knew the details of his department.

Parker started unrolling his sleeping bag. "I was told I would be romping about in the jungle and exploring a lost city. Fun, safari-type danger, not horror novel danger. No one told me about any bloody shadows from another world. Or anacondas bigger than-" He snapped his mouth shut.

Abraxas shrugged. "You could always go back."

"No." The boy pulled off his shirt, exposing the indentation of his spine. Abraxas found his eyes drawn to that long, smooth back.

"Have it your way. I'm lowering you into the pit tomorrow." _Why should I be the only one to sleep badly tonight_? Abraxas thought to himself.

"Fine." He stepped out of his shorts, and Abraxas made himself look away.

One thing that Abraxas had learned in his years during the war was that courage did not mean one felt no fear; courage was feeling the fear and carrying on nonetheless. This boy who didn't even have hair on his chest yet had been shown the biggest threat to the world that had ever existed and then gone through an experience that reduced most people to the mentality of a panicked shrew about to be gobbled down by a tyrannosaurus rex all in one day, but he hadn't broken and he was refusing to retreat. Abraxas had seen seasoned war veterans reduced to whimpering like babies by the shadows. He had to admit that the very aggravating Harold Parker had potential. Not that he was going to let the boy know that he thought so.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry was up with the sun. He was glad that Abraxas was still dozing (probably sleeping off the firewhiskey he had drunk in the middle of the night), as he wanted some time to himself. There were things he needed to think about. His preferred way of working things over in his mind was to engage in target practice- something that all Aurors did to keep their skills sharp. He shot bubbles from his wand and tried to pop them all with spells as they whizzed and zigzagged all around him. Usually, he was quite good at the drill. But today, he couldn't seem to hit one damned bubble.

_There's something not right_, he thought. It seemed like the very second he had encountered Abraxas, his intelligence and competence had fallen by half. As wrong-footed as he had been yesterday, was it any wonder Abraxas thought he was useless? He did his best to ignore a small voice in his head that told him that, without Ron and Hermione, he was just a boy who had needed to be rescued from Muggles by gingers in a flying car.

Not that it helped that this mission wasn't much like what had been described. Harry had thought he was done with unnatural snakes, and then he had literally fallen right into the clutches of another. It wasn't quite as big as the basilisk, but, with those faceted eyes, it certainly was no ordinary reptile. His attempt to talk to it hadn't accomplished much... and why could he still speak Parseltongue? He had thought he had lost that ability when Voldemort died. Was it because Tom Riddle was alive somewhere in the world? Harry didn't have a clue.

Growling impatiently to himself, Harry made a new batch of bubbles to replace the ones that had escaped into the city. He stopped ruminating and started to concentrate intently on the drill. _Pop. Pop. Pop pop. Pop pop pop_. Harry grinned; he wasn't back where he usually was, skills-wise, but at least he was better than an eleven-year-old who had just got his wand.

Abraxas came out of their shelter, and immediately, the Stunning spell that Harry was throwing went astray, nearly hitting the older man. "Parker!" he snapped.

"Sorry."

Abraxas had his bow and arrows with him again. "I'm going to send a message to the Ministry. You're coming with, since I'm not sure that I can trust you. Try not to trip on your own feet." Harry made a face at Abraxas' back; the other man turned around, scowling. _Yikes. _If he cold sense Harry gurning at him, could he sense when Harry stared at his bottom? Well, the thought wasn't enough to make Harry stop. It was a bottom worth staring at.

Outside the city, Abraxas pointed at one of the small, golden-furred monkeys; it sat on a branch nibbling on something red and juicy. "See the fruit that it's eating? If a monkey is eating something, you can too, most likely. So pay attention." _Twang, fwish. _The monkey fell to the ground with an arrow through it. Harry found it a bit unsettling; the monkey had _hands, _and Abraxas was going to _eat _it. Harry had been around enough killing that he disliked seeing even this tiny life ended. It wasn't how everyone reacted to their war experiences, he knew; he had heard through the grapevine that Gregory Goyle was coping with the death of his best friend by embarking on a world-wide safari, the object of which was to kill a dangerous magical creature on every continent. Different strokes for different-

"Quit daydreaming and pick some of that fruit," Abraxas drawled. "You'll get scurvy if you eat nothing but those dreadful sawdust cakes." Actually, the food that the Ministry provided was perfectly blanced nutritionally, but it would be nice to have something different to eat. As Harry shinnied up the tree, Abraxas did bird calls. A toucan flew to him, perching obligingly on a fallen tree trunk and holding out one leg so that Abraxas could tie a slim metal tube onto it. "The British Ministry of Magic. Thank you."

The toucan inclined its head and squawked, then took off. An eagle with a wing-span wider than most men were tall swooped down and seized it with talons like knives. The toucan screeched, its feathers flying everywhere. As the eagle flew up toward the top of the forest canopy, the metal tube with Abraxas' message plummeted down, hitting his pith helmet.

"That was... unfortunate," Harry said.

Abraxas muttered and scowled. He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, but no other birds came. "The eagle has frightened them all away. Come along." Abraxas tied the monkey to his belt, then led Harry toward the river. Whistling brought a turquoise and gold macaw. When the bird took wing with the message tube on its leg, a sudden gust of wind slapped it out of the air and onto the surface of the river, where it was pulled underwater by a crocodile. Abraxas gaped at the place where the macaw had disappeared, then spun toward Harry. "_You_. You don't want me to contact the Ministry." Abraxas jabbed an accusing finger in Harry's face.

"I'm flattered that you think I'm competent enough to control both the wind _and _a crocodile," Harry snarked.

"I'm supposed to believe that it's merely coincidence?" Abraxas narrowed those icy gray eyes.

"Believe whatever you want," Harry said, looking away. He knew that averting his gaze would make him look shifty and dishonest, but that look in Abraxas' eyes was oddly attractive, and Harry was starting to feel... overheated. Rampaging teenage hormones were a bloody pain in the arse.

Abraxas let out an exasperated noise. "Let's eat and then put you down that hole."

Oh. _That_.

...

As they made their way to the chamber with the pit, Harry watched the shadows curl back from the light. "Why don't you use spells on them?" he asked.

"Give it a try. Something mild."

Harry drew his wand and cast one of Ginny's creations toward the nearest shadow: the Caramel Hex. It emerged from his wand as a faint beige light. A shadow arm plucked it out of the air and flung it back at Harry; cursing, he dodged to the side. The hex hit a wall, splashing sweet goo everywhere. "Bloody hell! How is that even possible?"

"Another world, other rules." Abraxas pursed his lips slightly. "A bit humbling, is it not? Come along now."

Harry hurried to keep up with Abraxas, a lot less willing to let the shadows anywhere near him now. "How does your whip work against them, then?"

"That, Parker, is a secret known only to me."

Once in the room with the pit, Abraxas secured a rope around Harry's torso, rigging a harness and charming it to be extra-strong. "In a situation like this, it's best not to rely on just magic." With his wand, he split his light orb in two. "Each part lasts only half as long, so we have less time. If you feel like you're in danger, send a flare up."

Oh, Merlin's figs, Harry did not want to go down there, but he felt an absurd need to prove himself to Abraxas. He wanted to take minute, though- Abraxas had put his arms around Harry while tying the rope around him and... _he had tied rope around Harry. _ Harry was having some inconvenient leg-wobbliness. He just wanted to take a few deep breaths and- _Abraxas putting his arms around Harry's waist again, but not letting go and- tying him up and doing_-

"Parker? Are you feeling ill?"

"Uh. Um." What a perfect time to be having _that_ sort of thought. Harry quickly turned away from Abraxas and stepped to the lip of the pit. "I, um, think I'm ready. Um."

"Alright. Lower yourself down. I don't want to smash you against the side. Use your hands and feet. There you go."

Abraxas let the rope down slowly. The metallic stink burned Harry's nasal passages, and his hands sank into thick growths of of the white, glowing lichen. His light orb stayed close by, which was a comfort. Below him, he could see shadows roiling in a sickeningly wormlike manner. As he went further down, the sides of the pit started to... recede. Harry found himself dangling. He squinted, trying to understand what he was seeing, but his mind rebelled. It was impossible for the walls to bend back that way; the angles didn't add up.

The metallic smell got stronger, making Harry's eyes water, and an oily mist of a color that Harry had no words for rose around him. It entered his ears and his nose and his mouth, coating his throat. "Parrrrrrrrkerrrrrrrrrr." It was a tiny little whisper, from something that was nowhere near human. But it didn't know his real name. That was comforting. "Parrrrrkerrrrr, you wannnnnnnt hiiiiiiim."

_Something_ poked into Harry's mind. It showed him Abraxas standing thigh-deep in the spring-fed pool, tossing his freshly washed hair back from his face. With no one to observe him, his face was much softer. Sunlight glistened on his bare, wet body, highlighting the scars on his back and legs. Water droplets clung to his golden body hair. As he squeezed the moisture from his hair, his muscles flexed subtly. Harry had been so unbelievably wrong; Abraxas was _beautiful_.

"I will give him to yoooooooooou. He will dooooooo whateeeeeever you waaaaaaannnnnnnt."

Not bloody likely. Harry actually snorted, expelling some of the loathsome mist. Abraxas Malfoy, sex slave? The man would probably commit seppuku first. The very ridiculousness of the idea gave him the strength of mind to shove the presence out of his mind. The shadows were going to have to do better than that.

"Are you all right down there?" Abraxas' voice came faintly.

"Yeah." The walls were now completely gone from sight. All Harry could see were tentacles of darkness, some of them as thick as cars, sliding around and through each other and the oddly-colored mist. He noticed that the light from the orb was growing dim. No... it was developing streaks of pink. "UP!" Harry bellowed as he shot sparks from his wand. He couldn't explain why, but he knew it would be bad if the light turned red. There was a lurch, and, thankfully, he felt himself start to walls came into view again, with their unnatural angles, and then Harry was being pulled over the lip of the pit by two strong arms. After the foul stench that Harry had been immersed in, the smell of Abraxas' fresh man-sweat was delicious.

"Do you need a moment?"

"Uh, yeah." A hand was at the small of Harry's back, steadying him.

"I'll debrief you about it later. I think you need fresh air."

The hand didn't leave Harry's back. Apparently, he didn't look good. He didn't feel so wonderful, either. His head was throbbing, and his stomach churned. _Please don't let me get sick in front of Malfoy, _he prayed.

Back out in the corridor, their way was blocked by a massive creature that looked like a spider crossed with a centipede crossed with a jelly-fish. Its red eyes were bigger than Harry's head. It grinned, showing overlapping sets of human teeth, and clacked slime-dripping pincers. Worst of all, some of its limbs were not entirely corporeal: the beast was part shadow. Harry took one look at it and threw up on his boots.

Abraxas loosed his whip and his wand simultaneously. The whip hit the shadow limbs, turning them to smoke, and then Abraxas let loose an _Avada_. The thing out a brain-drilling screech, and Harry, who had dropped to his knees, covered his ears. The din didn't last long; the monster died quickly. Abraxas stared at it in consternation. "There's no way I can Vanish anything this large, and it is blocking our way out." He looked at the light orb, which was now one again. "And our time is limited."


	8. Chapter 8

This fic has been adopted by FF member Raine Lemuria! She already has several chapters done, so go looker her up! She will probably change the rating to M. She may add MPREG, if there's a demand. Go! Now!


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